


Pressure 5: Squeeze

by grey853



Series: Pressure [5]
Category: XF - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Psychological Trauma, mentions of child abuse and sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Mulder struggles to recover from his assault, Walter must deal with his own anger and frustrations about the possibility of having their relationship used against them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure 5: Squeeze

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to XFreak for proofing and being so supportive.

Title: Pressure 5: Squeeze  
Author: Grey  
Fandom: XF  
Pairing: Mulder/Skinner  
Rating: NC-17  
Status: New/Complete  
Archive: Yes  
Email: [Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com)  
Series/Sequel: Pressure Series  
Website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net>

Notes: Thanks to XFreak for proofing and being so supportive. Any mistakes are my own. 

Disclaimer: Not mine, but that never stops me. 

Summary: While Mulder struggles to recover from his assault, Walter must deal with his own anger and frustrations about the possibility of having their relationship used against them. 

Warnings: Child abuse and sexual assault are mentioned. 

Author's Notes: This episode has a lot of Mulder and Skinner in separate places. The next story in the series will fix that. 

* * *

**Pressure 5: Squeeze**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Squeeze)

* * *

Walter ran his hand over the empty spot beside him as he listened to the running water. Lifting his head slightly, he glanced at he large glowing numbers on the digital clock before groaning into his pillow. Four o'clock in the morning and Mulder needed to shower again. Damn. 

Sitting up, he leaned against the headboard, turned on the light, and put on his glasses. Closing his eyes, he waited, thinking back over the past week, the number of countless times his lover tried to wash away the pain and misery haunting him, irrational and stubborn efforts to scrub away whatever the hell Henderson did to him. Walter had his suspicions, but kept quiet for the moment, knowing his questions would only serve to drive a wider wedge between them. 

The water cut off and after a few minutes, Mulder emerged dressed only in baggy sweatpants as he dried his hair with a towel. Yellowed bruises covered his skin, the marks sore reminders of the attack. He sagged down on the edge of the bed, his back to Walter, his head down. "I didn't mean to wake you." 

"It's okay." 

"I'll go downstairs next time." 

"I said it was okay." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Come here." Drawing him closer, the still damp skin wet his own, tickled it with the residual heat, the smell of soap still strong. He steadied his words and braced Mulder more firmly in his arms before he spoke. "You know there's something wrong, right?" Before he could jerk away, Walter tightened his grip. "We need to talk about this." 

His breathing rushed, Mulder hissed, "Let me go." 

"I will if you promise not to run away." 

"Get the fuck off me." 

Releasing his hold, Walter watched the anger twist his lover's face, the fear mixed in with the blaze of passion. "You can't keep this up." 

"I just took a fucking shower for christsakes." Rolling off the bed, Mulder walked to the corner of the room, leaned against the wall and stared out the window. He wrapped his arms around his middle, the cast on the left wrist standing out against his darker skin. "It's not a big deal." 

"It wasn't the first twenty or forty times. It is now and I think you know that." 

"God, you're such a prick sometimes." 

"Yeah, well, that still doesn't change the facts." 

"Facts? What facts?" 

"The fact that you're not eating or sleeping, but you can't stop showering. Tell me that's not a problem." 

"It's not." 

"I don't believe you anymore than Scully does." He looked over and Walter saw the panic, the call to flight Mulder got whenever he seriously wanted to run away. He hated the thought of his partner leaving, but he couldn't give up either. "She's as worried about you as I am." 

"What? You two talking behind my back now?" 

"We're both concerned." 

"About what? That I'm losing my mind? That I can't handle it?" He suddenly stood straighter before he added, "I've handled worse, so you can just stop trying to run my life." Before Walter could argue, the younger man headed down the stairs as he grabbed his leather jacket. 

Walter hurried out of bed and followed, making it to the door before Mulder did. "You're not going out in the middle of the night. You don't even have your shoes on and it's freezing." 

Without warning, a fist slammed into the wall beside his head, the hammer blow of flesh against plaster leaving an impressive blood print. "Get the hell out of my way." 

"No." 

"Fuck you." Spinning away, Mulder stormed to the other side of the living room, throwing his jacket on the couch. He stopped suddenly and then rested his forehead against the wall, his arms up over his head in surrender. His voice no longer blasted his words out, but made them work to be heard. "I didn't mean to do that." 

"I know." 

"I'm fucked." 

He stepped away from the door, and moved to stand next to his lover, keeping his voice strong, but gentle. "You don't have to be. Let me help you. Trying to do this on your own isn't working." 

"I'm not good at asking for help." 

"No kidding." 

"Asshole." 

"Dumbfuck." 

"Can we stop now? My head hurts." 

Carefully, Walter touched his shoulder, noted the brief flinch, and then drew the body to him. "Let's go back to bed. We'll talk about what to do in the morning." 

"Shouldn't we clean up the blood first?" 

"In the morning." 

"Okay." The single word came out defeated, the air sagging around it. They made it up the stairs before Mulder stopped and shook his head. "I can't." 

"Can't what?" 

"Can't sleep. And before you ask, it's not about Henderson, at least, not completely." 

"Then what is it?" 

"My father." When he got no response, he met his eyes. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be ambushed by your own memories?" 

"Yeah, a little. After Nam, it happened a lot. Why? What did you remember?" 

"I don't know." 

Walter sat down on the bed, his body dragging down, tired and frustrated. "What does that mean, you don't know?" 

"It means I think I remember things, but I'm not sure they're real. I'm hoping they're not." 

"What kind of things?" 

"Bad things." Avoiding his eyes again, Mulder walked to the doorway of the bathroom. "I know this is crazy, Walter. I mean, why would I remember now? I'm thinking maybe what happened on that base, all the drugs and everything else, triggered some kind of false memory." 

"Or a flashback." 

"Maybe. I just don't know. I don't want to think of my father hurting us like that." 

"Us?" 

"Samantha and me. My mom. All of us. It's just that I'm not sure what I'm remembering is true or some bad dream. Whenever I try to sleep, it keeps coming back. It's all mixed up in my head with other stuff that I know actually happened. It's making me a little nuts." 

"Just a little. Nothing we can't deal with together." 

"You don't understand." 

"Don't understand what?" 

Mulder swallowed hard before he spoke, the effort to be clear obviously a struggle. "I don't want to deal with it. I want it to go away." 

"That's not going to happen." 

"It has before." 

"Yeah? Is that why you're trying to scrub your skin off now?" 

Standing very still, his face suddenly sad and distant, Mulder shook his head. "No, this is different. I have to admit, this is a little scary." 

"A little? Mulder, come to bed and just try to rest." 

"In a minute." 

"Mulder..." 

"I know. It's crazy, but try to understand. I need to." 

"It's okay." But as Mulder turned to take another shower, Walter knew they both recognized the truth and the lie coexisting in that simple statement. 

* * *

The electric rush wound through his chest as Mulder lapped and nibbled at his right nipple while teasing the other one with his free hand. "Oh, god." 

A muffled good morning met his ear as his lover continued sucking before licking his way up to kiss him, his lips over his. A tongue pushed inside his mouth, wrestled and then withdrew. Faint traces of beer and coffee trailed down his throat, Mulder's breath heavy and satisfying as he spoke. "You taste good first thing in the morning." 

Clearing his throat, Walter smiled, using a hand to pet Mulder's whiskered jaw. "I've missed this. Got your appetite back?" 

"You bet." Smiling wickedly, Mulder dipped, settling between his spread legs, his knees up and over his shoulders. He handled the balls first, rolling them gently before stroking the cock, wrapping his good hand around the waking member. "Very nice. Oh, yeah, I've missed this, too." 

Without any further talking, a steamy wetness engulfed him, Mulder's lips an O around the tip as his tongue pressed up from the bottom. Sweet heat raced along his spine, his back arching at his own moans, his thighs heavy with sweat. His body swelled with the delicious pleasure as the younger man ran his finger between his asscheeks, the pucker invaded like fire. He jerked upward to find his cock shrinking, the ache still there, but the erection fading. Using his own hips, he pumped harder, praying for hardness, power to fuck the face still working to bring him off. Jesus, the more he tried, the more the limp thing refused to pay attention. Son of a bitch. 

He closed his eyes and wished for a pillow to cover his face, to smother the flush of humiliation firing his skin. 

After a few moments, Mulder lifted his head, his full lips swollen from wasted efforts. "What's wrong?" 

"I don't know." 

He kissed the tip again, but shook his head in frustration as he pumped and tried to work it back to full form. "Doesn't seem to be working." 

"Fuck." 

Mulder released him and sat on the edge of the bed, his face darker and more serious than usual. "I knew this would happen." 

Swallowing back his pride, his own worries to the side, he whispered, "What are you talking about?" 

"You don't even want me to touch you." 

"This has nothing to do with you." 

"Your cock's in my mouth and you can't stay hard? I think that has a lot to do with me." 

"That's not what I meant." 

Mulder stood up, the sweat pants falling down around his hips, the recent weight loss even more evident. "I can be out by tonight." 

"Wait a minute. Please." The begging quality of his voice hushed Mulder's breathing, his movements stilled. "It's not you. It's me. The doctor said the medication might do this." 

"Do what?" 

"He said some men have a problem with the Lopressor." 

"A problem? You mean your blood pressure medicine could cause this?" 

"Yeah." 

"Shit. Why didn't you say something?" 

"We haven't done anything for awhile, so I was hoping it wouldn't happen by the time you were ready. I mean, until this morning, you've been avoiding the whole thing." 

Mulder sat back down on the edge of the bed and then met his eyes as his palm rested over his heart. "You're sure it's not me?" 

Taking the hand in his own, Walter brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Why would it be you? I love you. I love having you touch me." His voice caught as he spoke, his words as shaky as his own disappointment. "Don't ever think I don't want you." 

Mulder nodded, his eyes misted over. "It's hard not to." 

"Believe me. I want you. Ever since that first time, I'm like some horny teenager, dreaming of your wild mouth, your fine ass, and the wonderful things you can do with both. It's just that right now, my body's not cooperating with my mind." 

"Maybe." 

"Maybe what?" 

"Impotence can be psychological, too. You want me, but maybe you really don't." 

"That's bullshit. I love you." 

Mulder stayed quiet for a few moments, his eyes studying his face, not moving at all before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I know you do." Rubbing is face in the cup of Walter's hand, Mulder complained, his voice close to a whine. "It's not fair." 

"No, it's not." 

"It's just temporary, though, right?" 

"God, I hope so." His head fell back, his eyes closed as Mulder stretched out beside him on the bed, his lean body a comfort. Taking him in his arms, he kissed his shoulder and ran his hand along his front, slipping down past the elastic. Before he could touch his goal, Mulder jerked away. 

"Don't." 

"Why not? My hand and mouth still work." 

"Just don't." 

"But I want to." 

"And I don't. 

Frustrated even more, Walter shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. Just because I'm not going to get off, doesn't mean you can't." 

"For now it does. I wasn't doing this for me anyway." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"Forget it." Sitting back up, Mulder got off the bed and headed toward the bathroom, his shoulders slumped, his breathing too fast. "You should call the doctor. Get a different prescription." 

"I already called." 

He stopped and turned in the doorway. "When?" 

"Last week. He said to keep using it to see if my body would adjust." 

"Why didn't you tell me then?" 

"You were a little busy." 

"Did you know about this before I got captured?" 

"I suspected it." 

"And you never said anything?" 

"What did you want me to say, Mulder? Hey, guess what? My blood pressure's down, but I can't get it up?" 

"That's not the fucking point and you know it. You promised to tell me if something was wrong." 

"And you promised to be honest." 

Mulder stood very still, the hurt in his eyes mixed with anger. Without another word he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door. When the sound of the shower started, Walter let his head fall back and covered his eyes. Reaching down, he ran his hand over his useless cock and cursed a body that betrayed him, a body that teased him with promise and then snatched it away. So much for being a man of action. 

* * *

Bracing himself forward on the counter, Walter listened to the last drops of brewed coffee coming through the filter. Behind him Mulder entered the kitchen dressed for work. He picked up a cup and stepped closer. "Smells good." 

"Yeah." After pouring Mulder's, he served his own. "We've got bagels or Danish. Or I can fix some eggs and toast." 

"I'm not really hungry. Just coffee." 

"Mulder..." 

"Don't start." 

"I'm not starting. I'm just worried. You've lost weight." 

"Thin's in, or haven't you heard?" 

"I'm not joking." 

Mulder shrugged and settled into a chair, his elbows up on the table as he sipped his coffee. After a few moments, he spoke again, the words hushed. "I'm sorry about this morning." 

"Me, too." 

"It's just that I hate not knowing what's going on with you. You're not the only one who worries." 

"That works both ways." 

"I know. I'm really not trying to make things harder. It's just that there are some things I can't talk about, not with you or anyone else." 

"Not even Scully?" 

"Especially not Scully." 

Sitting down at the table next to his lover, Walter watched the strain pull at his bruised features. "Why especially not Scully?" 

Mulder shook his head and put down the cup, his eyes still avoiding Walter's. "It's hard to explain." 

"Is it because you're embarrassed?" 

"Humiliated works better." 

"Humiliated?" Sitting back in his chair, hand to his mouth, Walter worked to keep breathing and his words level. "Mulder, tell me what Henderson did." 

"It doesn't matter." 

"Of course it matters." 

"No, it doesn't. I can't do anything about it." The anger escalated, his tone rocking the air, building. "Talking about it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change shit, not Henderson, my father, or any other bastard who wanted to play with pussy bitch Mulder, so why bother?" 

"Listen to me." 

As he reached for Mulder's arm, the younger man came up out of the chair, his eyes wide and whole body shaking. "God, don't touch me." He ran his hand up through his hair, his face flushed. "It's like I can't stop it. It keeps rushing back out of nowhere." 

"Then maybe it's time you let it rush out. Let it all go for once and see what happens." 

"What happens? What happens is I want to get my gun and either shoot myself or shoot those bastards who raped me. Shoot the son of bitch who shoved his fist up my ass and got off on it." 

Shocked silence followed, Walter stunned and staring, the words a powerful slap. Mulder swallowed hard and trembled as he wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. His head bowed, eyes squeezed shut, he folded, sliding down to the floor. 

Breathing took a vacation and only returned as Walter moved to sit beside him. He brought him into his arms, Mulder's weak resistance nothing as he turned his whole body and dropped his face to his chest. Stroking his dark hair, he shushed and held him closer, rocking to the rhythm of choked sobs and oh gods. 

Inside he seethed and swore to get the fuckers who hurt Mulder. 

* * *

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" 

"Yes, Agent Scully, come in and shut the door." Walter stood behind his desk, his AD persona in full mode. 

"What's going on?" 

"Agent Mulder won't be in today." 

The concern flashed in those blue eyes, eyes that studied him with such intensity he found it hard to meet them. "Because?" 

"I've put him on extended medical leave." 

"What happened? How is he?" 

He'd practiced his lines, but it didn't help. Nothing made it easy to say, especially not to Scully, someone who cared for Mulder as much as he did. "He's seeing Dr. Killion." 

"Dr. David Killion?" 

"You know him?" 

"He's one of the best psychiatrists dealing with PTSD and trauma. I've read some of his articles on his work with Viet Nam veterans." She nodded, her face a little less grim. "How did you get Mulder to agree?" 

"He didn't have much of a choice." 

"That bad?" 

"I think it all hit him at once. I drove him out to the clinic this morning before I came in. He's going to stay there for at least 72 hours and then we'll see what happens." 

"He's on a 72 hour hold?" 

"Dr. Killion suggested it after he talked to Mulder on the phone. It took some convincing, but he finally agreed." 

"Shit. He must be scared out of his mind. He hates hospitals." 

"I know, but we talked about it and he knows he can't deal with this himself anymore. I didn't know what else to do and Killion's good. I've seen him myself." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, about my nightmares and again after my wife died. He's not hooked up with the Bureau officially, but he does get some clients from the sleep disorders clinic and the VA. I trust him." He paused before he added in a near whisper, "Mulder needs this." 

"I agree. And so do you." 

He looked up to find her eyes watching him, her steady gaze both strong and compassionate. "This isn't about me." 

"No, but you recognized that you couldn't deal with this alone. That takes a lot of courage. 72 hours is just the beginning. Mulder has a lot of work to do, and I know you're going to be there to help when he needs it." 

"Thanks, Scully, but you're going to be in this, too." 

"Believe me, sir, I know that. Maybe we can tag team his psyche." 

"Maybe, but don't count on it. Mulder's a master at mind games." 

"Inventor more likely." 

Nodding, absently playing with the files on his desk, Walter fought back the sting and the blurred vision. "I just wanted you to know what's going on. He's worried about you being on your own again." 

She stepped a little closer, a voice a bit more hushed. "He's going to pull through this." 

"I know. I just hate seeing him so miserable, so out of control." 

"I know." Clearing her throat, she added, "Don't be surprised if Killion asks you to take part in the therapy." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean Killion's a strong believer in behavior modification. He includes the person's spouse or partners in the whole plan. We both may end up having to do homework." 

"God, I hate homework. He made me keep a journal last time." 

"And he'll probably ask Mulder to do something similar, only with his degree of depression, I'd say he'll probably get shorter assignments, maybe lists or letters, things that won't seem overwhelming." 

"Sounds like you've done this." 

"I have and it helps, but mostly I've done a lot of reading. Despite the fact that Mulder's a behaviorist himself, he's about as cooperative as a bear doing a swing dance. People like Mulder are the worst kind of patients. He knows intellectually what he should do, but his emotions are so raw, he just can't do it. Once he settles down even a little, he's going to fight this." 

"I know." He cleared his throat and glanced up over the rim of his glasses before he spoke. "I also wanted to say how much I appreciate you being so discreet about Mulder moving in with me." 

"I would've packed his bags if he'd gone any slower." He smiled as he imagined Scully doing just that, her petite form dragging Mulder's duffel as well as his stubborn ass down the corridor to his place. Her gentle voice brought him back in focus. "He loves you and it's obvious you feel the same way. Nothing wrong in that." 

"Some people would disagree." 

"I think you know what I think about those kind of people." Suddenly more serious, she frowned. "Even so, you're right to be cautious. Even if no one actually said anything about the same gender aspect, the fact that you're his boss could be a loop hole they could use so they wouldn't look like total homophobic fascists." 

"I'm well aware of how they'd do it. They'd shred us to pieces in private about being gay, and then say it had nothing to do with it when they pushed for my resignation." 

"And?" 

"I'd retire." 

"I hope that doesn't happen." 

"Me, too. I can't protect either of you if I'm not even in the game." 

"So, do you have a back up plan in case something does happen?" 

"Only the most simple of plans." 

"Which is?" 

"Whatever I have to." 

* * *

Arms folded, Mulder paced in front of the window, panic squeezing all his muscles and fogging his thoughts. Outside the freezing rain coated the bare limbs, a wild wind whistling and claiming its victory over new territory. Inside, the young agent wanted to strip himself naked and take another shower, a hot cleansing to wash away the filth crawling all over his skin and wriggling inside him. 

Just as he started for the door, Dr. Killion entered. "Agent Mulder, why don't you sit down?" 

"I don't want to sit down." 

"Okay. Then why don't I sit down and we can talk some more about why you're here." 

Air tightened in his lungs, his desire to run almost too much to control. He watched the man sit behind his desk and organize his folders before turning back to face him, pen and notepad ready. Long strands of fine sandy hair fell across his forehead and he pushed it back. About forty and fit, he rolled up his sleeves and stayed silent, dark blue eyes just staring and waiting. 

"I hate being here." 

"Why is that?" 

"Because I should be able to deal with this myself." 

"Maybe we should start with what _this_ is." 

"I told you on the phone." 

"Tell me again." 

"I was assaulted." 

"Sexually." The level tone didn't ask a question, just said what Mulder didn't want to. 

"Yes." 

"Were you raped?" 

"Not this time, no." 

"Not this time?" 

Mulder saw the shoulders move in a subtle shift as Killion sat a little straighter. "No, he touched me and hurt me, but legally it wasn't rape." 

"But it felt like it?" 

"Yes." Mulder walked back and forth in front of the window as he talked, the idea of staying still too threatening, too restrictive. Sweat washed and chilled his skin, the back of his neck tickled by the beads forming even as he spoke. "I'm thinking maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time. This thing has made me start thinking back to other things that have happened in my life, sort of like I can only handle so much and my mind has a fucking breakdown. I'm not usually this out of control." 

"Define what you mean by out of control." 

"I can't seem to manage simple things like eating and sleeping. I can't concentrate or get anything done. I feel wired all the time." 

"You said on the phone that you'd considered suicide." 

"I didn't say that." 

"Really? You didn't tell me shooting yourself would be too easy?" 

Narrowing his eyes, running his faulty memory back over the morning, he pulled a blank and shook his head. "I don't remember that, no. I was upset this morning." 

"Are you saying you never thought about it?" 

"I didn't say that either." He fisted his hand and focused on the swollen and torn knuckles and spoke more quietly. "I almost hit someone I cared about last night. 

"You want to tell me what happened?" 

"Not really, but I guess I should since that's the only reason I agreed to come here." He stepped to the far corner and leaned back, his arms still around himself as if they could hold in the terrible spasms clenching his gut. "First, I need to know that this isn't going to be used against us. Not that it means shit, but I need to hear it anyway." 

Killion nodded, his face still serious and calm. "Like I told you on the phone, this is private. No reports go back to the government and except for the insurance claims, no one will know you've even been here unless you tell them." 

"That's not a problem. I'm not claiming this through benefits." 

"That could get expensive." 

"Doesn't matter. My dad's paying for it." He bit his lip to fight off the round of hysterical laughter welling up, the ironic joke of such a statement. Selling his father's house and his inheritance gave him a small fortune tucked away, money he never even considered touching until now. 

"Then what is it that you don't want anyone to know?" 

"I'm living with AD Skinner. We've been together almost a month now." Mulder noted the lack of any change in his features and cocked his head. "You're not surprised." 

"No. Mr. Skinner mentioned you were more than just another agent." 

"He did?" 

"Yes. Would you have preferred to tell me yourself?" 

"No, but since you already know, then you should also know he was the one I almost hit." 

"And why did you do that?" 

"He wouldn't let me leave. I was so incredibly pissed and he was standing in the doorway, just standing there telling me what I could and couldn't do. It all happened so fast." 

"And that scared you?" 

"Damn right it scared me. I'm not my father." As soon as he said it, he stopped, stunned by his own words. "Shit." 

"What?" 

"I'm not my father." 

"What does that mean exactly?" 

"I don't hit the people I love. I swore I'd never do that, and here I was almost doing the same thing he did. Fuck." Mulder sagged down into the chair in front of the desk, bending, bracing himself on the narrow wooden arms as he shook. 

"Who did your father hit?" 

"All of us." 

"Us?" 

"My mom and my sister Samantha." 

"And you." 

"Yeah, and me. I used to make up these excuses, pretend he didn't do it without a good reason. I got really good at excuses whenever someone asked me about my bruises." 

"There's never a good reason for abuse." 

"I was a kid. He was my father. What the fuck did I know?" He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands out and moving as he spoke. "I just thought that if I were good enough and strong enough, he'd stop, that he'd love me and maybe he'd bring back Samantha." 

"Bring her back from where?" 

"From wherever he let those bastards take her." 

Killion shook his head, his confusion stronger. "What are you saying? What happened to your sister?" 

Looking up, a grim expression twisting his features, Mulder's voice stretched out the words. "Didn't I mention that? She was abducted by aliens." 

* * *

A long day of tough meetings took their toll even on a good day. Today never came close to being good. Walter put his briefcase in the trunk of his car and then climbed in the front seat. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, an anxious fatigue scraping his nerves raw. Killion wouldn't let him see Mulder for two more days, no phone calls, no contact of any kind during the initial evaluation process. He knew the reasons, but hated the result. He couldn't hold him, touch him, or give any comfort. Selfishly he realized he couldn't get any solace in return either and cringed a little at his own neediness, his own addiction to Mulder. 

Before he could start the car, the door swung open and a dark figure slid in beside him, a gun in his hand. "Hey, Skinner, long time, no see." 

"Krycek." Fuck. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Just start the car and let's go somewhere a bit more private. I know just the place. It's over on 38th." He nudged the gun into his side and smiled. "Let's go." 

"And if I don't?" 

"Then Mulder will have to find a new buddy. Do you really want to test me on this?" 

Grinding his teeth, his jaw spasmed at the strain of controlling himself, being ambushed by ratbitch Krycek on top of everything else almost too much to deal with. He remained quiet as he followed directions and finally pulled up in front of the motel. As he got out of the car, Krycek tossed him the key. "You do the favors. Room 20." As soon as they were inside, Krycek locked the door. 

"What's this about, Krycek?" 

"Take out your cuffs and put them on behind your back." Again he followed orders, the cuffs effectively locking him into whatever plan the Russian wanted. "Good. Now sit down and listen." 

"Listen to what?" 

"I know you don't trust me, but you've got to believe I'm not your enemy here." 

"That's rich considering you just kidnapped me at gun point." 

"You're going to be free to go just as soon as I finish what I need to say. Spender knows about you and Mulder." 

"Knows what?" 

"Don't play misty-eyed virgin, Skinner. He knows you're fucking him. He has every intention of squeezing you with the information just as soon as he sees the right opportunity." 

Closing his eyes, he worked at keeping his breathing even, the air too thick and stubborn in the dim room. Finally, he looked up to meet feral green eyes and a smile. "You think this if funny?" 

"No, I think it's damn near hysterical. Mr. fucking Alpha AD screwing Fox Mulder. Most people wouldn't believe it. The thing is, Mulder's had a thing for you as far back as I've known him. Didn't stop the slut from fucking around though. About the only surprise is that he finally got up the balls to go for it." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"He's a hell of a fuck and gives head like a dream. He also cries out when he comes, but you probably know that." 

"You fuck. You're lying." The idea of Krycek and Mulder together stunned him, made his very bones freeze solid. 

"Am I? After I put that sleepless bastard Preacher out of his misery, Mulder gave me one of the best pity fucks of my life. And I have to thank you for asking me to take him home after Scully's abduction. Even exhausted, he blew me like a pro. Man has a mouth like an angel. Must be all that practice." 

"You son of a bitch." Behind his closed lids flashes sparked and shaved through his nerves, the sizzling nearly popping through his skin. He barely acknowledged the hand on his shoulder. "Get the fuck off me." Krycek moved away and kept his distance until he finally looked up, his eyes still narrowed. "Why are you telling me this now?" 

"For one, I wanted to see if he told you. Obviously he didn't. The man's just full of surprises. For another, I wanted to see how you'd react." 

"And?" 

"I'd rather you not have a stroke, thank you." 

"What the hell do you want from me?" 

"I wanted you to know about Spender so you can take over." 

"Take over?" 

"So far I've handled him myself. The bitch is easier than Mulder. A blow job keeps him happy." 

Walter studied the face in amazement. "Are you saying you're giving Spender head to keep him from outing Mulder and me?" 

"Noble in an ironic sort of way, huh?" 

"Or sick." 

The smug smile vanished, replaced with a quick flash of anger. "I don't give a shit what you think, Skinner. In fact, if good old Jeffrey wanted to put his video on the net for the world to see, I could care less how it affected you. But, then there's Mulder. That's a different story." 

"What's Mulder to you?" 

"None of your fucking business. Let's just say that having him fired from the FBI wouldn't suit my plans right now. So, the deal's this. You get the tape from Spender and make sure he understands that giving away your secrets might not be the big bonus and boost to his career he imagines." 

"What tape?" 

"The one he has of you and Mulder making out on your couch. You really should learn to pull those drapes before you get busy." 

He didn't take time to consider the invasion of their privacy, the wave of indignation welling up as he tried to stay focused and clear. "And what makes you think he'll listen to me?" 

Krycek snorted and leaned back against the wall, his eyes meeting his. "Well, you can always bribe him with sex. Poor bastard jerks off watching you two go at it. Better yet, just mention what you did to Henderson might not be an isolated incident." 

The room stilled around him at the mention of the name. "What about Henderson?" 

"You've got my respect on that one. Son of bitch deserved execution for what he pulled, but I have to admit, I never thought you'd do it, not to mention doing it better than I could. Still, stuffing his cock in his mouth as a final gesture was just showing off." 

His words worked though his dry mouth, the scraping nearly painful. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about." 

"Doesn't matter to me if you admit it or not. Just make sure Spender believes it. He's already afraid of you. This just makes it easier to make sure he doesn't try to squeeze you or Mulder." 

Stepping closer, he asked, "Where is the key to the cuffs?" 

"Inside my right pocket." 

Reaching in, Krycek got the key and put it on the dresser. Taking a tube from his pocket, he frowned. "I'm sorry about this part, but I need a little time and I can't trust you." Before he could argue, Krycek kissed and caressed his cheek as he whispered in Russian. Then the dart stung the back of his neck and the world dipped into darkness. 

* * *

God, he hated hospitals, the cold colors and smells, the suspicious eyes watching every move. A sudden image of his trapped fish made him smile sadly as he rested his forehead on the thick plate glass of the office. All he needed were fins and gills and he'd be right at home with Sophie and Eric. 

"Agent Mulder, you were saying that you think your father had something to do with your sister's disappearance." 

"I know he did." 

"And how do you know?" 

"It's a long story, and right now, I'm too tired to tell it." 

Killion swiveled in his chair and leaned back, his head tilted as he studied him. "Maybe you should try to get some rest. You said earlier that you've been having trouble sleeping. When was the last time you actually slept through the night?" 

"Not for as far back as I can remember." 

"Do you have nightmares?" 

"You could say that." 

"And recently, would you say they've gotten worse?" 

Mulder paced again, this time, his whole body shivering. "Why's it so cold in here?" 

"It's not." 

"I'm freezing." 

"I can have the nurse bring you your jacket." 

"I don't want a jacket. I think I should just go home. This isn't helping." 

"You've been here less than a day. This is only our second session." 

"But you've been watching me and taking notes. I'm not a danger to myself. Why waste our time?" 

Killion leaned forward, his eyes intense with the no nonsense look he'd seen on Walter too many times to miss. "You promised to give it 72 hours. I think that's a good time frame to get an idea of whether we're wasting our time. You're obviously more settled than when you first got here, but you're a few steps away from ready to leave yet." 

"Is that your tactful way of saying you think I'm still unstable?" 

"Do you think you're unstable?" 

He waited before he answered, the glib response ready to jump ahead of a serious answer. After a few moments, he finally sat down and worried the words into the world. "To be honest, I think I'm falling apart here." 

"Then maybe staying might not be a bad idea." 

"Maybe." 

"You never answered the question about your nightmares. Are they worse now? Is that why you're having trouble sleeping?" 

He sagged back against the chair, his body aching with fatigue, his muscles stiff from working against his own bones. "I've always had nightmares, but they got worse after Samantha was gone. Sometimes I remember my dad being pissed because I wouldn't stop screaming." 

"Did he hit you then?" 

"Sometimes." He swallowed harder, the choked words hard to control. "My mom came in to hold me and he got so angry like we were ganging up against him. He hated us being together. She finally left him soon after that, but it didn't stop. I had to see him whenever he wanted." 

"And how often was that?" 

He jerked forward, his mind blinking shut, the quick image of strong, bony hands holding him down in the dark, his legs forced apart. The faceless thing jumped out from the grey shadows at the edges of his thinking, snarled a warning, and then backed away. Breathing took so much energy, but he forced himself to keep at it. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." He held the side of his head and closed his eyes, the long ache from the temple down the back of his neck growing into a steady throb. "I don't want to do this anymore. I'm just so fucking tired." 

"What would you rather do?" 

"I want to go home." 

"How about you go to your room instead and get some sleep?" 

"I can't sleep." 

"You can if I give you something mild to relax you." 

Startled, he shook his head, the suggestion too scary. "No drugs. I told you before I won't take any drugs." 

"I know what you said, but just a small dose might let you sleep. It won't knock you out, but you'd be less anxious. You're safe here." 

He snorted his amusement. "Safe? You must be kidding." 

"You don't feel safe?" 

"Don't take this personally, but safety's an illusion." 

"Are you saying you never feel safe?" 

Pausing for a moment, he imagined Walter holding him, his muscled arms like armor as they lay together after deep kisses and loving caresses. "Sometimes I can let myself pretend." 

"But mostly?" 

"Mostly, I know the truth. There's no such thing as being safe from the devil when he wears any face he wants to." 

"And what faces does the devil wear most often?" 

"My own and anybody I've ever trusted." 

* * *

His head hurt, but he ignored the drug-induced hangover as he walked into what used to be Mulder's office. "Agent Spender." 

The man stood up quickly, his thin body slack in a suit too big for his body. "Sir? What are you doing here?" 

Closing the door behind him, the lights still low, Walter stepped close to Spender, their bodies mere inches away. Fear fluttered like dull colored moths in the hooded eyes that looked everywhere but in his direction. "Just thought we might need to have a serious conversation about privacy." 

"Privacy?" 

"Don't fuck with me, Spender. I know about the tape." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir." 

His hands reacted before he could stop them. Grabbing the lapels, he pushed the body back, the light weight making him fearless. Nose to nose, he growled. "Do I look like I'm in the mood for games?" He shook him for emphasis. "Well, do I?" 

"No, sir." 

"Then tell me about the tape." 

"Let me go first." 

The hard smack of skull to wall echoed in the room. It took a few moments for Spender to recover enough to beg, "Don't hurt me." 

"The tape." 

"The bottom drawer on the right." 

Letting him go took effort, but he did it. He opened the drawer and retrieved a tape. "Is this the only one?" 

"Yes." 

"You're lying." 

"I don't have the other one." 

"Who does?" 

"I can't tell you." 

He didn't have to. Another knot turned in his gut, twisting his spine at the idea of Alex Krycek watching an intimate moment between him and Mulder. "You're never going to use this." 

"What makes you so sure?" The minor puff of confidence pushed the words. 

"Because if you do, the tape of Krycek sucking you off won't be far behind." 

Shock registered like chiseled tremors on the weasel's face, the lines too deep for a man so young. "I don't believe you." 

"Believe it. Did you really think a man like Krycek could be trusted?" 

"Alex wouldn't do that." 

"Alex Krycek would fuck a bucket of black cancer if it suited his purposes." 

Spender sank into the chair, his head in his hands. "You of all people should understand." 

"Understand what?" 

"Understand what it means to love the wrong person." 

"Falling in love with Krycek will only make you more miserable than you already are." Walter shook his head with a combination of pity and anger before he headed for the door, the tape still in his hand. "Understand this, Agent Spender. If you do anything to hurt Mulder, you won't have to worry about love. You'll be a dead man." 

Spender didn't have to answer to show he believed him. The strong scent of fear mixed with faint traces of urine and sweat proved that. 

* * *

Walter rolled the tape in his hands, each turn closer to winning the argument to watch it. Before he could decide, a knock interrupted. He opened the door and found his friend Roger Davis standing there waiting. "What are you doing here?" 

"Good to see you, too. May I come in?" 

"Sure. I'm sorry. I'm a little distracted." 

"I know." Davis walked into the room and stood quietly while he shut the door. "You didn't tell me you were with Mulder." 

"What?" 

"You heard me. Why didn't you see fit to tell me that you two were together?" 

Rubbing his forehead, Walter shook his head. "First of all, it shouldn't make a difference. And second, well, I just didn't. We're not telling anyone but his partner and his doctor." 

"Killion." 

"How did you know that?" 

"I saw you take him there this morning." 

Suddenly wary, suspicion growing, Walter's words came out as an accusation. "You were following us?" 

"Protecting more like. You've had surveillance since the whole thing with Henderson. Good thing, too, or your ass would be in jail now." 

"For what?" 

"For killing the sick fuck." 

The world swirled for a moment until he found the couch beneath him. He worked to keep his words even. "You killed him." 

"Someone had to. He was a loose cannon." 

"I didn't ask you to do that." 

"You didn't have to." 

A long quiet came between them before Davis settled beside him, his voice suddenly softer. "You care about this Mulder. I've seen it." 

"Yeah, I do." 

"You love him?" 

"Yeah." 

"Then that's good enough for me." A hand rubbed his shoulder, the touch a quick trip back to steamy jungle nights in Nam. "Look, I know we didn't work out. We were too young and too different. That doesn't mean I begrudge you the chance to have a good life. If I can help that, then I'll do it." 

"But murder?" 

"If I hadn't gotten Mulder out, he'd be dead, but not before that prick fucked him as many times as he could. He had it all planned out. Mad dogs aren't murdered, Walter. They're put down. That's all I did. I'm not going to feel guilty about it." 

Glancing over, taking in the blue eyes he knew too well, he whispered, "You never did." 

"I know. And you felt guilty enough for both of us." He caressed the cheek and then stood up, the intimate moment suddenly over. "I just wanted to warn you. They know about Mulder living here. They suspect the rest, but it wouldn't be that hard to prove if they wanted." 

"And do they want to?" 

"Well, that's the funny part." 

"I'm not laughing." 

"Me, either. It's like they know, but they're not using it, and don't think it's because you're a favorite son, Walter. You're a red flag walking. I just wanted you to know in case the wind changes and the troops come in." 

"I appreciate it." 

"I know you could handle it, but your friend Mulder, well, he's shaky. I've seen men with battle fatigue right off the front lines who looked healthier." 

"He's had a hard time." 

"I know that. Henderson made no secret of what he did. Still, he has to pull himself together or the fuckers are going to win." 

"That's why he's with Killion." 

"Don't want to burst your bubble, my friend, but Killion's candyass ways don't always work." 

"How do you know?" 

"Son of a bitch wanted me out of the Marines." 

"Shit. You were a patient?" 

"For about a week before I realized it was either Killion or the Corps. I stuck with what I knew. He's a mind fucker, that one. He's not afraid to use your own fears against you to get what he wants. Your boy's already been messed with enough without Killion doing a power trip on his head.." 

"He never tried anything like that with me." 

"That's probably because you wanted his help. Believe me, your man's better off with just toughing it out." 

"He's been doing that for most of his life and it hasn't worked. You don't know the whole story." 

"I read his file. I know enough to know you've got your hands full and not all wars are fought on foreign ground. But you've made your choice and I respect that." 

"It's a choice I'd make a hundred times a day if I needed to." 

Davis laughed, the familiar sound more husky than he remembered. "You've got it bad for the boy, soldier." Turning to the door, Davis stopped for a moment and added, "I wish you luck, Walter. Just watch your back, my friend. The snipers are starting to take cover on the high ridge." 

And then he was gone, the air in the apartment thick with the taint of regrets and confession. 

Walter stood up and locked the door before going upstairs to take a hot shower and figure out what to do about Mulder. 

* * *

Huddled on his side, his knees up, Mulder shivered under the blanket. No matter what he did, he couldn't reclaim the heat or the light. Darkness swamped his senses and he had no computer screen or TV for distraction. He turned over and rolled out of bed again, his mind still swarming with all the floating bits of memory dredged up by the sessions, rusty hooks snagging at his skin over and over. Everything swirled, all messy inside, blood pumping all through him like poison flooding his system. 

He held his broken wrist to his chest, the hardness of the cast a reassurance somehow, a cocoon to the constant ache of slowly healing bones. Running his good hand back through his hair, he stopped at the small indentation at the front of his hairline, teased the scarred flesh and remembered the drill bit going into his skull. God, what a rush. 

The sudden knock startled him as the door opened and Killion entered. "Still not sleeping?" 

"I told you I don't sleep." 

"Everyone sleeps." 

"Want to bet?" 

The image of a dying Preacher flashed in his mind, soon followed by the slightest of shudders. He remembered the fullness of Krycek's cock pushing into him, the heated slam of being fucked well by a man he hardly knew, a man who had no claims on his body other than to feel good, a man who later betrayed him. Son of a bitch should've lost more than an arm. If Mulder had held the carving knife, he would have. 

"The hot showers didn't help?" 

"You been keeping count?" 

"We monitor most of what you do at first. It's not unusual for patients here to have a need to feel clean. I know you've had five showers since this morning, that you haven't eaten, but have had three sodas. I also know you were pissed about the decaffeinated coffee, and that you pace more than you sit." 

"And someone gets paid to write all that shit down?" 

Killion ignored the sarcastic tone as he asked, "Okay, if you won't take any meds, is there anything that might help you rest?" 

"A TV. SciFi channel, Discovery channel, anything to drown out all this quiet." He didn't add that Walter fucking him into a oblivion would help more. 

"We don't allow TVs at this stage, sorry." 

"What about a phone then? I want to call Skinner." 

"It's two in the morning. Besides, there's no contact for the first three days." 

"Who made up that rule?" 

"We discussed it this morning." 

"We? We who?" 

Killion walked closer to the bed, his eyes focused on him with concern. "Do you remember any of what we discussed on the phone or when you first got here?" 

"Of course, I do. You never said anything about no contact." 

"Yes, I did. And you agreed." 

Mulder stood up and walked away, Killion's presence too close, too overwhelming. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving first thing in the morning." 

"I don't think that's a good idea." 

Anger revved through his arms as he spoke. "Frankly, I don't give a shit what you think." 

"You signed the papers for seventy two hours." 

"That was for a voluntary stay." 

"After the first seventy two hours, yes." 

His fist balled at the realization of the words. "Are you saying I can't leave?" 

"I'm saying you've got another two days to work through some things before I decide whether you should stay or not." 

"Before you decide? That's bullshit. I know my rights. You can't keep me here." 

"Actually I can. It's better if you don't fight though. Involuntary evaluations tend to have negative results." 

"You bastard." 

"Agent Mulder, you're a trained psychologist. You know what's going on right now. This sudden need to run isn't about me or this clinic. It's the trauma, not the treatment. I just want to help you get a little better control over yourself. I can do that a lot better and faster with your cooperation." 

"I want you to get the fuck out of my room." 

"I'll see you in the morning then. I've scheduled a session at nine." 

Mulder crossed his arms, refusing to speak, the anger seething like hornets under his skin. He turned and braced his hands against the metal mesh covering his window as he ran wild in his head, listing the schemes to free himself from this new cage. He escaped Russian gulags and exploding boxcars for christsakes. What was one puny little psych ward? 

* * *

The world swam back into focus slowly, his mouth stuffed with cottony spit that clogged his breathing. Lying on his back, hands strapped to his sides, restraints on his ankles and across his chest reminded him of what happened. "Fuck." 

"I see you're back with us." A hand controlled his forehead while a thumb held his eyelids open before the spiked light stabbed through the back of his skull. The urge to bite that hand passed as a wave of dizziness welled up and over him. "Just lie still. You've still got a heavy dose in your system." 

"What did you give me?" 

"Just something to calm you down. It took five men to get you under control before we could restrain you without causing any injury." 

"You bastard, you've got no right to do this." 

"I've got every right, Agent Mulder. You were trying to leave without medical permission. Add to that, it's winter. If you had managed to get outside, where would you have gone? Would you have stolen a car? Run around in light sweats and a leather jacket in these kind of freezing conditions? I'm not willing to take those kind of chances." 

Closing his eyes, the floating sensation lessened before he finally spoke. "I've been cold before." 

"In Alaska?" 

Turning his head, he looked up into Killion's serious face. "What do you know about Alaska?" 

"I know a great deal more about you now than I did. I had your complete medical files faxed over. You've been busy getting your ass kicked for awhile now. Why don't we find out why that is?" 

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?" He clenched his fist and fought the leather bindings for a few frustrating seconds before he demanded, "Get these off me." 

"Only when you promise to be more cooperative. Running away and striking the orderlies doesn't count as cooperation." 

"I won't hit anyone if they don't touch me." 

"You have trouble with people touching you?" 

"Uninvited, yeah. I wouldn't think that'd be a big surprise considering my background." 

"It's not, but I think we need to talk about the reasons for your aversion and not just assume them." 

"God, you're so full of shit." 

"Being hostile doesn't help here." 

"Being tied down and drugged doesn't help either. How the hell am I supposed to trust someone who does this?" 

"It's for your own good." 

"I've been hearing that all my life, every time my dad hit me or someone else beat the hell out of me. I don't need to hear it from you to know what a load of shit that is. Don't expect me to believe it." 

"No one's going to hit you here." 

"Then get me out of these and let me go home." 

"I'm afraid I can't do that." 

"Then let me talk to Skinner." 

"I can't allow that either." 

"He's going to be pissed when he finds out about this." 

Killion leaned forward, his forearms braced on the raised metal rails, his voice irritatingly calm and collected. "I think Mr. Skinner understands what's going on here. He's not happy about it, but he knows I'm not in this to hurt you. In fact, he mentioned that you might react like this." 

"Did he?" 

"Which is why it's so important to continue enforcing it. You've got to stop being your worst enemy and let someone help you until you're more able to help yourself. The crisis stage won't last forever and then you'll be able to think and understand more clearly what our aim is." 

New levels of the game spun for a moment and then no longer blurred. He knew the rules by heart, play along until the right opportunity fell into place. His tongue loaded with lies as he forced his lips into a slight surrendering smile, a practiced expression of survival. 

"I'm sorry. I just panicked, I guess." 

"Panic is understandable." 

"I mean, we kept talking about things that hurt me to remember, you know, so I just tried to get away from that." 

"And do you understand why I had to sedate you?" 

"Sure. I still don't like it, but I understand. You thought I was a danger to myself." Distrustful eyes studied him, looked for the play, but he kept his sincere Mulder face steady. "I won't do that again. Just don't keep me tied down here. It's too much like the assaults." 

It took several moments before Killion finally agreed. "I'm going to trust you, Agent Mulder. I'll let you out of restraints, but I want you to go to your room and really try to rest for a few hours before our session. We need to talk about some strategies to overcome some of your more self-destructive behaviors. I really want you to consider the medications we'll discuss, too." 

More than anything he wanted to slam his fist through the smug face, but he didn't even try, didn't even flinch as Killion unfastened the straps and lowered the rail. As he sat up, he kept his head down, his body neutral. Nausea caught him off guard and he stayed still an extra few moments as a wheelchair rolled to the side of the bed. "I don't need that." 

"You're still too unsteady to walk without assistance. It's either this or leaning on someone to get back to your room. Your choice." 

Settling down into the chair, he steeled himself to do whatever he had to do to get free of this place, to free himself of the cage in the long string of prisons in his life. 

* * *

Walter paced in Killion's office, the extended wait making him even more nervous. The doctor entered the room behind him, a frown on his tired face. "Doctor, I need to see Mulder." 

Settling behind his desk, he motioned to the chair. "Actually, I'm glad you're here." 

"Why? What's happened?" 

"Agent Mulder tried to escape last night." 

"Shit. Is he okay?" 

"Physically he's fine, but emotionally, that's a different story." Killion put his hands together on the desk as he leaned forward. "This is tricky." 

"What?" 

"Normally, I'd be discussing this with a family member, but he's named you as his next of kin." 

"Discussing what?" 

"Commitment." 

Walter came out of the chair, his body suddenly charged with new energy. "What the hell are you talking about, commitment? He's been traumatized, but he's not crazy." 

"Please, calm down." 

"I am calm. I just want to know what makes you think that he needs to be committed." 

Killion's expression stayed solemn. "You're aware of his delusions about his sister and his childhood." 

"You mean the abduction by aliens story?" 

"Yes. And that his father was involved." 

"That's not really a delusion. He believes it and there's evidence that strongly suggests that it actually happened that way." 

"Please." 

Killion's tone of disbelief angered him more. "Look, I know most people think it's bullshit. Lord knows, I did, too, at the beginning, but I've told you I work with the X-files. I've seen and read things that few people would believe. Why should this be any different? It certainly doesn't make him delusional." 

"What about the paranoia?" 

"He's got reason to be paranoid. We have powerful enemies, enemies who would love to have Mulder vulnerable and locked away somewhere. I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen." 

"And the depression? Surely you're aware that Mulder suffers from pronounced clinical depression." 

"He gets down, yes, I know that. But he has reason." 

"Reason or not, he's a danger to himself at this point. All the physical injuries he's suffered over the recent years could be the result of risk taking behavior so he doesn't have to commit suicide directly." 

"I don't believe that." 

"You're in love with him. Of course, you don't want to believe it. We've talked about denial before, Walter, especially when it comes to people you care about." 

"This isn't like that. He wouldn't do it. Not now. Not with us being together." 

"And what if the relationship ended? Would he then?" 

"It's not going to end." 

"But it could. Or something could happen to you. What then? He needs some intervention, Walter." 

"And how would commitment help?" 

"It's just a way to put him in a more structured environment so he can come to terms with the extreme traumas he's suffered. He's very resistant now, but we have drugs that could change that." 

"Drugs? Shit." He used both hands to rub his face, the serious words almost more than he could bear to hear. 

"I need your help here." 

"I can't go along with this." 

"Do you care about him?" 

"Of course, I do." 

"Then help me. When he signed the evaluation papers, he committed himself, but now he wants to leave. I could keep him against his will, but that would only gain even more antagonism. I'd like you to convince him that he should do this. He trusts you, but he's afraid right now." 

"With good reason." 

"It's for the best." 

"Look, you don't know Mulder. This isn't what he needs. Therapy, yeah, I could see that, but not commitment and not drugs against his will." 

"His thinking is impaired now. He doesn't know what's good for him. I've been dealing with cases like this for some fifteen years. I can help him." 

"Cases like Mulder's? Not hardly. With all due respect to your expertise, Killion, this won't work. I know you helped me through some tough times, but Mulder's not like me or many other people. He needs help coping by support, not force." 

Sitting back, still stubborn, Killion shook his head in disappointment. "You're the perfect codependent, Walter. You're enabling his negative behaviors to continue." 

"I'm supporting him through a hard time. I'm showing him love and showing him how to trust again. That's different." 

"Is it? I hope you realize that you're right in the middle of this self-destructive pattern." 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"You're his superior and yet you've taken him as a lover in a world where homosexuality isn't a positive." 

Angry, his teeth clenching his jaw into near powder, he managed to grind out the words. "What's your point?" 

"My point is that it's another example of the risk taking Mulder does on a regular basis. What better way to thumb his nose at authority and rules than to sleep with the one man who symbolizes that the most?" 

"It's not like that." 

"Maybe not, but the obvious age difference in relation to what I've learned about Mulder and his father leads me to believe that the dynamic of being with an older man is also significant in your relationship." 

"You're saying he's looking for a father figure." 

"That shouldn't surprise you." 

Standing straighter, his eyes narrowed, he took on the level tone he used with agents who fucked up on the job. "You know, I'm getting a better picture of what it was Roger meant about you being a mind fucker." 

Startled, Killion stared back, his face suddenly nervous. "Excuse me? Roger who?" 

"Doesn't matter. I'm taking Mulder out of here." 

"You can't do that." 

"Watch me. You either let me have him now, or I'm going to have this place so full of federal inspections and investigations, you won't have time to screw around with your patients' lives." 

"Are you threatening me?" 

"No one ever said you were slow. Now, take me to Mulder." 

For the briefest second, a stubborn set of eyes stared back, but then relaxed. "And you'd do it, too." 

"Well, then my sessions weren't completely wasted." 

"No, you're a man who does what he says, I understand that." Standing up, his shoulders squared against defeat, he added one last jab. "This is a mistake, Walter. Mulder is ill whether you want to believe it or not. If you don't let me care for him, let someone else do it. I know your thing is fixing people, but this man is too damaged for you working alone. Enabling doesn't help." 

He wanted to pistol whip the man standing, but simply spoke in a gruff hush. "Just shut up and take me to Mulder." 

* * *

Gently he pushed back the dark hair, the strands soft and smooth against his fingertips. Leaning forward he kissed his cheek and then sat back against the headboard as sleepy hazel eyes opened to stare back. "How you feeling?" 

"Better, thanks. Whatever he gave me must have been pretty potent. I still feel like everything's dragging around me." 

"At least you slept." 

"Yeah, if you call being zonked out on psychiatric meds sleeping." 

"I'm sorry it turned out like that. I really thought he could help." 

"Not your fault. You didn't know what an asshole he was. I'm just grateful you got me out of there." 

Mulder rolled over in his direction, his hand fanning out and petting his bare belly. "You feel good. I missed you." 

"Same here." Taking his hand, he lifted and turned the palm to his lips, the salty heat of it surging a direct line to his groin. Sliding down, he lay next to Mulder and pulled him in closer, his mouth taking his. Tongues bartered for space in slick heat as they wrangled and twirled together. Mulder fought for dominance and probed inside him as his cock grew even harder. 

The younger man rolled him on his back and then straddled his hips, his hands braced forward on his chest, his eyes still a bit dazed but hungry. "God, I want you." 

Reaching his hand up, he cupped his jaw, tracing the whiskers around his chin. "I love you." 

"I know." 

Dipping down like a swimmer, Mulder put his legs between his and spread his thighs while he licked his right nipple. Pumping his erection against his, his lover rose just enough to strip off his sweat pants and make skin to skin contact. The heat seared him, the strokes of an eager hand all down his length sending his mind into a tailspin. At his mercy, Walter let Mulder attend him, his head going down to meet the crown, the wet tongue lapping up the free flow of precum, each lick like electric whips zapping his spine. 

He bucked up, his rhythm pushing in and out of the suction, the lips and tongue adjusting just right, every movement just what he need, every thrust perfect. The swell came and ended in a huge clap, the explosion rocking and splitting into a whole series of lashing spasms, his own groans sounding like thunder. 

Settling back in the lush arms of release, he squeezed his eyes shut in relief, his whole body fainting away from frustration trapping it for so long. Days and days of nothing and now this, Mulder bringing him off, the smug smile like another form of delight he never experienced before this man found and saved him. 

The tangy taste of his own cum smeared his lips as Mulder gave him a deep kiss, his tongue pushing inside and taking its time reacquainting itself with every curvy surface. 

Finally stopping, he snuggled into this side and rested his head on Walter's sweaty chest, his hand still massaging circles. His voice came out raspy, his words almost slurred. "So, it's not permanent." 

"Apparently not." 

"Good, because I was going to have to go whip your doctor's ass if I couldn't get some." 

Smiling, Walter mussed his hair. "Selfish." 

"You bet." After a moment, he spoke again, this time his words more exact, but still in a whisper. "I've been thinking." 

"About?" 

"A lot of things, but mostly you." 

"What about me?" 

"You're really good for me." 

"I'd like to think so." 

"But it's more than that. No matter what I do, you forgive me." 

Walter looked down closer at the sad face of his partner and scooted away enough to bring his head up to face him. "Mulder, this isn't about forgiveness. My love for you is unconditional. Don't you get that?" 

The skin reddened as the eyes misted, the words coming out in a slow choke. "I'm trying to. It's just, I've never really had that. Or if I did, I didn't recognize it." Looking away again, he sighed as he pulled up the comforter and settled back down against him. "I've been with a lot of people, Walter. I've never told you about them, because I was ashamed and a little afraid." 

"Afraid of what?" 

"That I'd lose you." 

The image of Krycek and how many others sprang up for just an instant but Walter banished them with a simple truth. "I don't care about who you've slept with before me." 

"But you don't know who they are." 

"It doesn't matter." 

"You sure?" 

"Very." He hugged him closer, the embrace returned. "I mean what I say." 

"I believe you." 

"Then that's all that matters." 

Edging in closer, Mulder rubbed his face against his chest, his beard a delicious scrape, and then settled down beside him. "So, what were you doing while I was locked away in the looney bin?" 

"Just business." 

"Anything special?" 

"Just the usual. Working to stop corruption in the Pentagon and to cut off a global conspiracy aimed against us." 

"If you don't want to tell me, just say so." 

Petting his hair back, his smile genuine, Walter kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Go to sleep, Mulder. We'll talk in the morning." 

* * *

The end


End file.
